


i know that i don't own you (perhaps i never will)

by cockwhoredan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2010 Phan, Drunk Sex, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Jamaica, Jealousy, M/M, One Night Stands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 19:17:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6718330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cockwhoredan/pseuds/cockwhoredan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it’s 2010, and dan and phil are in jamaica. dan gets a bit jealous that people keep flirting with phil, they get drunk, and smut ensues. nothing special.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i know that i don't own you (perhaps i never will)

**Author's Note:**

> jamaica phan was requested so i delivered. includes frottage.

 

Jamaica is great, really. The water is crystal clear, warm as it creeps lazily up the soft white sand and laps at Dan’s feet. Long beaches provide a nice place to walk and to clear his head. There are few things Dan loves more than the cool, ocean breeze filtering through his lungs. (Of course, he does despise the humidity and its tendency to curl at his long fringe.) Truly, though, it’s everything that he could ask of a vacation. He knows he should be grateful to have been given this opportunity.

However, there is one small complaint.

It starts when they first arrive and meet their tour guide at the airport. He's got this godawful Zoolander-esque floral print shirt on, sunglasses perched atop his perfectly styled quiff. He looks Phil up and down, a gesture that Dan doesn’t take the liberty to indulge in very often, and shoots him a grin.

“Looking _very_ nice today, Mr. Lester,” he says politely.

Phil smiles back, and something gets uncomfortably tight in Dan’s chest. It's hard to ignore the lingering glances the tour guide gives Phil, the purposeful shoulder brushes that happen every so often as they walk to the hotel. His name is Cole and he's so pretty that Dan doesn't stand a chance.

They sit at the pool the next day.

He and Phil are lounging on a couple of damp towels, swim shorts clinging to their thighs. As Phil gazes out toward the frothy waves, Dan allows himself to admire the way the sun bounces off that dark, saltwater-messy hair. He wonders what it would feel like to run his fingers through it; he wonders what Phil would do if he just reached over and gently brushed it away from his forehead--

Phil's eyes flick questioningly back at Dan, and Dan stutters out an excuse for staring, because, well, he’d most certainly seen a bug land atop Phil’s fringe. “But,” he amends, “it’s gone now.” Phil laughs, pushes himself up, and brings back two icy lemonades from the bar.

The napkin that he grabs soon becomes a blank canvas for some girl to jot her number down on, much to Dan's dismay.

“I’m here all week,” she says, tugging suggestively at the string of her bikini. “So if you’d like to hang out sometime, just send me a text, okay?” Phil nods, grinning happily as she leaves. She’s pretty and she’s blonde and she’s a _girl_ , something Dan isn’t and can never be, not even for Phil. He feels a bit sick as he watches the man draw his phone from his pocket and plug the number into his contacts. The lemonade tastes bitter when he takes a sip.

Evidently, everyone on this fucking island wants to get in Phil’s pants. Dan can't blame them, really, because he's in the same boat. But can’t they give him a break? Cant they just stop reminding him that they’re allowed to flirt with Phil, but Dan isn’t?

He watches Phil glance down at his phone with smile, tongue poking out through his teeth in that adorable way that makes Dan's stomach flip every time. “Sexting already?” he asks bitterly. Phil thinks he’s joking and chokes out an affronted laugh. Dan doesn’t laugh with him. Phil doesn’t notice; He never does.

It’s 11 now; A whole day gone. They’re at the bar, and Dan’s ordered one too many margaritas. Maybe it's because he wanted the sickly sweet drinks to get his vision blurry and his mind fuzzy. That way, it'd be easy to forget how much he aches to have Phil as his own. Really, though, all the alcohol’s done is destroyed his inhibitions and made him that much more likely to stare, to let his gaze linger on Phil’s pink lips, to let his eyes travel down the curve of the man’s neck.

This time, when Phil looks over and catches him staring, Dan raises an eyebrow and shrugs as if he’s not pushing past any boundaries.

“You look nice in that shirt, you know.” he says, then gulps down the rest of his salt-rimmed glass, because he’s not _nearly_ drunk enough for this. “No wonder that girl was all over you.” Phil, the cheeky bastard, just chuckles.

“Oh, hey, thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

Dan doesn’t know when they agreed that kissing would be a good idea. But only a moment later, Phil’s ducking forward, cupping his flushed cheeks and kissing deeply. He's licking into his mouth as if he's starved for affection, and the alcohol is evident in his breath. Dan’s had so many dreams about this, he’s imagined it so many times, but his brain has never come close to concocting a kiss this good.

Phil’s lips are pillow soft and his fingers are gripping Dan’s long fringe, twisting to give an experimental tug. Dan can’t help but whimper needily into his mouth. “Phil,” he breathes, eyes fluttering shut. “Please, I want-"

The thing is, he doesn’t need to tell Phil. The man knows exactly what he wants, judging by the way he distractedly slips the bartender a few notes and leads Dan out of the bar, a hand steady on the curve of Dan's waist.

When they get back to the hotel, Phil is pressing him up against the wall. His mouth is hot and wet, kissing filthily against every inch of tan skin he can reach. Dan’s never been more aroused in his entire life, especially when he feels teeth close down onto his collarbone.

Phil rolls his hips forward, digging them into the swelling bulge in Dan's jeans, and Dan has to stifle a positively embarrassing whine. "Fu- fuck-" he stutters. His body goes on autopilot, starting to rut against Phil. Everything is blurry, and he can't focus at all; the only thing he knows is that Phil makes him feel so goddamn good and he needs _more_.  

"Shh, I've got you." Phil promises. His long, slender fingers cradle the back of Dan's skull while the other hand fumbles uncoordinatedly with the zip of his jeans. Dan is growing increasingly desperate, wriggling against the wall and aching to reach down and touch himself.

"Maybe," Phil pants against the jut of Dan's collarbone. "Maybe we should move this to the bed?" Dan nods immediately, breaking away from the kiss and hastily stumbling towards one of the two hotel beds. He falls backwards onto crisp white sheets before reaching down, yanking at his jeans and toeing off his socks. He's too drunk to be self conscious about the pudge on his stomach or the feminine curve of his hips. Besides— Phil wouldn't be looking at him so hungrily if he didn't like what he was seeing.

"Goddamn." Phil exhales. "You're pretty." Hooking his thumb on the waistband of Dan's boxers, he tugs them to mid-thigh, admiring how Dan's hard cock springs up and slaps wetly at his stomach. It's leaking and pink and twitching. "Look at you. So hard for me. Fuck."

A full-body shiver runs through Dan just from that voice as it forms quiet curse words, promising dirty things against the shell of his ear. "I'd fuck you if we had lube," Phil growls, earning a whimper from Dan. "God, I'd pound into your tight ass so hard- you- you'd look so pretty, _fuck_."

Dan sucks in a slow breath to try to compose himself, because he's still practically a teenager and he's about four fucking seconds from cumming. "We could-" he chokes out. "Ah- We could just-" Fully unable to articulate his idea, Dan settles for showing Phil what he wants; he releases Phil's thick, swollen cock from his jeans, presses his hands to the man's lower back, and yanks him down so that their hips collide.

Phil emits a deep, throaty moan. He lets his cock drag across Dan's, slick and hot, then reaches between the two of them to wrap a firm hand around both lengths. The sound that rips itself from Dan's throat, high pitched and strained, is wholly mortifying to his self-consciousness. It feels so fucking good, though, that his brain flits away from the embarrassment almost as quickly as it appears.

Phil's palm is warm and slightly calloused, creating a tight heat for their cocks to fuck up into. He can feel Phil's larger, curved length throb against his own. Everything's a mess of precum, the slick dripping down their shafts and making the slide and rut that much easier. As Phil fists their cocks, he gives them a tight squeeze, pressing the flushed, pink heads firmly together. Dan moans brokenly.

"I- I'm close," Phil suddenly gasps. "Fuck, feel so good against my cock, baby. Gonna cum..."

Dan’s close too, head thrown back and his plush lips parted as he lets out a litany strained whimpers. Phil thrusts smoothly against the heat twice more before Dan cums, mewling something that vaguely resembles Phil’s name. Phil follows soon after, hissing out a pleasured ' _yes_ ' against the curve of Dan's jaw.

Their cocks release hot and sticky into Phil's closed fist, over his knuckles, cum running down the sides and onto Dan's stomach. It spurts across his navel, trickling down the feather light, barely-there happy trail.

Phil collapses back against the once clean sheets of the hotel bed a moment later. Meanwhile, Dan can’t seem to catch his breath. “Was..'mazing, Phiw....fuck.” he manages to slur out tiredly.

“Pun intended?”

The fact that Phil has the nerve to make a joke after this elicits a sleepy giggle from Dan. "Dork." he mumbles through a quiet yawn, pressing little kisses to Phil's shoulder and stretching his legs out to tangle them with Phil's. Then he pauses.

"You'll still be here when I wake up, right?" Dan asks shyly, peering up at Phil through thick lashes. His voice sounds almost as small as he feels. God, if he opens his eyes the next morning to an empty bed and sticky sheets, he knows that he'll cry.

“'Course, bear." Phil assures him. He leans in, slotting their lips together for a soft, sweet kiss that ends with a tender peck to Dan's chin. "Goodnight.” His breath is warm against the back of Dan's neck, slowly but surely evening out as Phil settles into a peaceful sleep.

Dan can only hope that when they’re both sober the next morning, heads pounding and the stale taste of alcohol lingering in the back of their throats, Phil might just kiss him again.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a comment/kudos if you liked!


End file.
